“I’ll tell you all, to-morrow morning, what you can do. You must say good night now, and think about it seriously. Because God has been very good to you, my dears, in giving you all you desire, you must be willing to share with others, even at the sacrifice of some of your pleasures. It is not good for us to have all we wish, and I will see how my little ones bear doing without some gratification for the sake of doing good.”
And so they went to bed, full of curiosity, though without much comprehending the real meaning of their father’s words. But when the morning came, each child was about his chair at his early breakfast.
“What early birds you are! What brought you down stairs at such an hour? Isn’t this the first time you have seen the sun rise this year?”
He glanced smilingly at Miss Lane, who appeared in the back ground, looking over the glossy heads of Frank and brown Rosie.
“I must confess, I was curious, too, and hearing the commotion, I followed to learn the mystery.”
“Now, ‘brown Rosie,’ how much do you suppose you thought of it all last night? The sand-man had arrived when you kissed me—did he wait till you put your head on the pillow?”
“I did think of it, papa,” said the little one, putting her head on one side, like a bird; “and,” she continued in a low tone, so that only her father could hear, “I asked God about it.”
“Bless you! my love,” he exclaimed, pressing the soft face close to him.
“We can’t think what it can be,” cried Jennie, in much impatience. “Oh, do, papa, tell us quickly.”
“Well, my dears,”—a profound silence reigned, four little hearts beat quickly. “Last year your Christmas tree and the presents on it cost me sixty dollars.” A shadow gathered over more than one face. “This is such a sad time for so many, and we must do with less ourselves to help them. If you are willing to do without your presents this year, Alice’s mother shall have the money.”